


Isn't it lovely?

by KHlove065



Category: Glee
Genre: Drug Use, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 17:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20393260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KHlove065/pseuds/KHlove065
Summary: "Papa?"





	Isn't it lovely?

**Author's Note:**

> Please note the tags before reading.

“Papa!”

Tracy races toward him, stumbling on tiny wobbly legs before she crashes into him, burying her face in his thighs and wrapping her thin arms around the backs of his knees.

Kurt’s laugh floats out of him, the weight of the day beginning to melt off his shoulders. He brushes a hand through her silky soft curls, gazing down at her brilliant wide eyes and exuberant smile, pink gums and crooked missing teeth, astoundingly beautiful in her innocence.

He drops to his knees, level with her face as he takes it in his hands, tactically memorizing every line of skin as he kisses her forehead, pulling her towards him and enveloping her small body. She giggles into his ear, the sound chiming and melodic as it dusts the grime of the city off of Kurt’s heavy heart.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

She smells sweet, a spiraling mixture of the detergent Blaine uses and the unmatched distinct smell of young unblemished skin. He shuts his eyes tight, tries not to lose the lingering scent, breathing it in as she begins to squirm energetically in his grasp.

And then he’s standing as she runs frantically away, a new pair of beautiful honey colored eyes drifting forwards to meet him, rescuing and comforting and the only thing Kurt wishes to see for the rest of his life.

Kurt falls into him, slumps against his broad torso as Blaine holds him, wandering hands traveling up his back and across his hips, eventually caressing the fine hairs at the nape of his neck as Kurt tries to breathe steadily into his shoulder.

Kurt’s lips seek out Blaine’s, slow and balanced and sweet, mouths lingering together as Blaine lifts the burden off of Kurt’s back and shoulders some of it onto his own.

They don’t speak about it, not with Tracy behind them. He simply stares into Blaine’s loving eyes, chasing the affection inside them, his heart contracting almost painfully as it yearns for the nostalgic love only his husband can provide him.

And truly, he doesn’t have to say anything. Kurt can tell Blaine knows it’s been a long day.

He takes Kurt’s hand, kisses each knuckle gently as Tracy pops her head out from behind Blaine’s legs and Kurt’s exhausted spirit steps out of the shadows to bask in the light for a heavenly moment.

He’s home.

Safe, and secure, and loved, the scent of the apartment filling his heart, cinnamon and vanilla and that constant, wistful smell of their detergent. Blaine takes his hand, warm and heavy calloused fingers that guide him further into the bright, cozy apartment, following the feathery trail of Tracy’s ringing laugh.

Kurt lets Blaine lead him, studying every inch of his husband carefully. The lengthy fan of his dark eyelashes. The reflective glow of his hazel eyes that shine like twinkling candles in a dark room. He flashes Kurt a breathtaking smile over his shoulder, curled pink lips mimicking Tracy’s. Kurt lifts his trembling fingertips to touch him, legs picking up speed and sprinting after him as Blaine begins to drift further and further away.

They stop when they enter the kitchen.

Kurt hates this part.

He knows it’s coming every single time, a tantalizing nightmare torturing him repeatedly on loop in his head. Yet he still watches, afraid that if he pulls his eyes away for a moment then he’ll begin to forget, and he can’t afford that, because the details are already becoming fuzzier.

Tracy takes her Daddy’s hand in hers, a sight that makes Kurt smile broken-heartedly as tears sting hot against his cheeks.

She laughs a bright laugh that echoes too sharp around the darkening room. The apartment fades back into bleak sepia shades as the laugh slithers between the three of them, puncturing the image of Blaine and Tracy into a million fractured pieces. Blaine’s hand is outstretched, beckoning for Kurt to follow them.

Kurt cries out, just as he does every time, reaching out for Blaine as his olive skin dissolves, the glint of his wedding band catching the light as Kurt’s hand falls through the air.

He tries to grasp all the minuscule pieces and frantically stitch them back together, but he can’t. They float like pieces of dust around the room, further and further apart until they settle into the air around him and Kurt’s left to stare at the empty void where his husband and daughter stood only a second ago.

He sinks to the floor with no strength to fight, his body limp and lifeless, collapsing lower and lower until he meets the harsh reality of the cold tile. His briefcase, weighed down by endless projects and papers that he uses to keep himself numb, to keep his quivering hands steady, clamors to the floor with a heavy thud.

It’s all Kurt does anymore, work and work and work, subjecting himself further into the dulling anesthetic cycle so he doesn’t have to think, doesn't have to feel, so the pain becomes sedative.

It works until he comes home. Then he has to find other ways. 

The tile is a ghostly chill against his cheek. He reaches out for the worn piece of cloth he keeps on the kitchen floor for this exact purpose, knuckles turning white around the angry purple skin of his fingers as he clutches Tracy’s shirt in a vice-like grip, pulling it closer even though he knows it will burn when he smells it again.

He smells it anyway, inhaling the scent of the detergent that makes him nauseous with homesickness, so overwhelming that his heart beat begins to catch and hang on every pulse as it seizes, achingly thick pangs from low in his gut traveling through his body in crippling waves.

The smell invades its way into his sinuses, a self inflicted pain that reminds him of a million shattered memories.

Swiping a touch of whipped cream onto Tracy’s nose as they baked cookies, Blaine’s hands steady on his waist and his laugh warm and tickling in his ear.

Cleaning the scrapes on Tracy’s elbows after she fell riding her bike, the warm water of the rag seeping relaxingly into his skin as Blaine wiped tears from their daughter’s eyes and combed her hair soothingly into a ponytail.

Tracy’s deafening scream as glass erupted throughout the car, glittering like deadly confetti as the world spun around them, hues of red blood and blue chrome painting a black sky as the semi truck crumpled their car.

And Kurt aches unbearably, more than he can endure, because he can’t remember any images of Blaine in those last few moments, even when he racks his memory till his head pounds and his skull throbs.

And he’s still alive, but he’s being killed slowly, ripped apart and destroyed at a horrifyingly prolonged speed.

And there’s a million memories that were never carried out but had already existed in Kurt’s mind, empty frames that were supposed to be filled one day with exact details that he wouldn’t know until the moment arrived. Those are shattered too, even though they were never real.

He’ll never stand on the curb with tears in his eyes, Blaine’s arm around his waist as they send their beautiful daughter off to school.

He’ll never fight with Tracy about staying out too late with her friends, only to be intercepted by a mediating Blaine who would calm them both down, reason a compromising solution that would make everyone happy, because Blaine was also so good at that, so compassionate and selfless and generous.

He’ll never hold one of Tracy’s children in his arms, never see her experience the joys of falling in love, never sob in Blaine’s arms as they watch their daughter dance with her soulmate at her wedding.

There are endless ways his heart is being torn, more than he can comprehend, the void expanding and deepening as the loss gets heavier and denser, gaining dimensions and layers till it grows into its own creature, a monster that eats Kurt alive, agonizing and excruciating.

There’s a whole other tunnel, equally dark and infinite.

He’ll never get to touch his husband again, to kiss his soft lips or hold his perfectly weighted hand or snuggle against his warm tender body that accommodated every inch of Kurt’s body seamlessly until they melded together as one.

He’ll never get to caress the parts of his body that were intimate outlets to his soul, the ones there for only Kurt to see, for only Kurt to love, for only Kurt to pleasure. The weight of him in his mouth, the plane of his soft stomach that Kurt loved to rest his hand and face against, the feel of his body underneath him as he rocked into him.

He’ll never get to spend another night falling asleep in Blaine’s arms, tangling his shins in his strong calves, tucking his icy feet against Blaine’s scorching skin, resting his head above a warm, circulating, beating heart.

And worst of all, though he doesn't know if anything can be deemed worst in this massive spiral of never ending encompassing grief, is the fact that he’ll never see Blaine grow old, never comfort him over his first gray hair, never kiss the marks of his sagging skin or soothe the aches in his cramping joints.

All of it is gone, no matter what Kurt does. It can never come back. It can never happen.

He’ll never be able to tell either of them that he loves them again. And he does. He loves them both so much he convulses with the intensity of it.

His eyelids slip shut.

His body is pressed into the floor by an invisible weight, an internal weight that feels more suffocating and substantial than the heaviest building, the tallest mountain. It’s too much for his withering body to hold in it’s weak frame, so much that he reaches the flittering brink of unconsciousness, dangling precariously over the line of what feels like eternal numbness.

He would take a million stressed fights with Blaine over seemingly absurd nothingness, a million moments of being frustrated to the point of tears as he tries to put Tracy to bed, a million of anything else just be able to hold his husband and daughter in his arms again, tangible and palpable and real, with him.

The tears of fighting with Blaine, of parenting Tracy, would have infinitesimal pain, so minuscule his battered soul would be immune to it, in comparison to the scalding, abusing tears caused by the soul crushing suffering losing both of them brings.

The backs of his eyelids are an empty canvas, painted vividly by dreams and wishes and images of the three of them. They’re so _lovely_, a picturesque family with the stretch of Blaine’s tan skin contrasted with his own paleness, their heights balancing each other out, chestnut hair against tightly wound black curls, crystal azure on dripping honey.

And it’s multiplied, opened up a by a whole new array of radiant colors as he sees Tracy between them, stunning wide eyes that reflect cashmere light in their soft golden hues, a riot of long curls from her Daddy.

Her tiny olive fingertips in Kurt’s hand.

And Kurt doesn’t get a moment of peace, his mind bombarded with images of the sickening dismantled states their beautiful bodies were in when they were taken from him, snatched from his hands in the blink of an eye.

It’s so grotesquely appalling that he rolls to his side and empties the contents of his stomach on the ground, bitter acidic vile in his stomach that spreads a debilitating burn throughout his body.

He’s empty and vacant, hollow, so irreversibly fractured and despairing and helpless. He doesn’t have the will or the stability to venture down the madding spiral of “what if’s” anymore, not when it’ll just drive him wild with insanity.

Instead, he musters his remaining strength to crawl forward, the dull pain in his ribs from where the airbag deployed against him reminding him of that day with every gained inch of tile.

He reaches the smooth wood of the island, raises himself up and grapples for the splayed orange bottles, caps and pills spilled messily across the counter top.

He doesn’t know which he grabs- he doesn’t care. He uses them all.

He shoves a handful into his mouth, palm sweaty as the pills lodge their way down his throat, suffocating and sticky and choking without liquid.

His husband returns to him suddenly, those gorgeous charming eyes that caught Kurt’s breath all those years ago, thick plump lips that stretch wide into a smile Kurt wants to kiss and taste forever, his palm outstretched, warm and inviting.

Kurt searches for another pill, drags it harshly down his throat. This is more than he usually takes but the image of Blaine is becoming sharper and crisper with every pill and the pain is too overpowering tonight. He needs more.

He takes another.

And suddenly Tracy appears, peeking out at Kurt from behind Blaine’s legs with a gleeful smile that makes Kurt want to throw her high into the air and tickle her sides until she squeals.

He takes another.

His eyelids close faster this time, heavy and dragging and sleepy. He doesn’t feel the cold tile against his paling skin as he slumps forward.

This time, Blaine is still there when the world goes dark. Kurt runs sluggishly to him, everything spinning and swirling and fading in a million opposing directions.

And then he lands in Blaine’s arms, warm and sturdy and alive as the lights filter impossibly bright back into the apartment, the scent of the flowery detergent healing every crack in his ribs, every deep-stretched scar on his skin, every wound in his gaping heart.

And then:

“Papa?”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by Billie Eilish's song "Lovely", and the format is based loosely on a fic I read some time ago that I can neither remember the title of, nor the author. If you know what I'm talking about, please let me know, as I would love to give credit where credit is due. However, almost all of the details have been changed to fit my own ideas and this is entirely my own writing.
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! I love you all!
> 
> (Also, if any of you are wondering about my AU, I swear a new chapter is coming soon. I just started school so my updates may be more sporadic, but I promise I haven't abandoned it!)


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